


Truth.Beauty.Freedom.Love

by pennilesspoet



Category: Moulin Rouge! (2001), Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Diegetic Musical Performances, Hurt/Comfort, Musicals, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 00:47:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennilesspoet/pseuds/pennilesspoet
Summary: "Love is like oxygen! Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!""Please, don't start that again."(Or: Schitt's Creek meets Moulin Rouge!)
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 18
Kudos: 27
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Point_of_no_return](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Point_of_no_return/gifts).



> Prompt: "Would really love a Moulin Rouge AU please. David is the courtesan and Patrick is the poet. NO death, just a lot of love, please! The author can put as many characters in the fic as they want to. My jam is music lyrics, so I would love it if music could be included."
> 
> I was absolutely delighted/terrified by this prompt. 'Moulin Rouge!' is my favorite film of all time, and believe me when I tell you that I have tried to write 'Moulin Rouge!' AU’s in the past, to very limited success. So, to the prompter: thank you! It seems almost serendipitous that this landed with me - but also my apologies if it is not what you wanted! This is going to combine elements of both 'Moulin Rouge!' and 'Schitt’s Creek'. 
> 
> In order for this to work, SC fans, you will need to know that there is going to be a bit of canon divergence: David and Sebastien have never met; and Johnny and Moira are invested in a local playhouse in this universe, instead of a motel. The rest I hope will make sense as the story unfolds.
> 
> Also, this will be a musical of sorts, but most of the singing will be diegetic, and the rest of the music will be provided as a sort of soundtrack (lyrics bookending chapters, etc.). Please feel free to listen to the linked playlist to familiarize yourself with the songs - you can also listen along with the story, but you should note that there are times when I am jumping into the song halfway through (the very first song is an example of this).
> 
> Okay, this author’s note is obnoxiously long. Sorry!
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6japz0OgNIRV6LOlQsXdjY

**Prologue**

_I'll move back down to this western town_   
_When they find me out make no mistake about it_   
_I'll move back down to this western town_   
  


_Or go on, go on, go on_   
_If you were thinking that the worst is yet to come_   
_Why am I the one always packing up my stuff?_

Looking back, Patrick isn’t sure exactly how he ended up in Schitt’s Creek of all places. 

When he told his parents that he was leaving, his father shook his head disappointingly while his mother sobbed into his shoulder. It wasn’t that they didn’t believe in Patrick; they just didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy with what he had.

What could he say? That he constantly felt like he couldn’t breathe? That he felt like there must be more to life than the neatly-packaged one he had been given? He didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but he felt like he was missing something, and the need to find this missing piece weighed on him more and more each day.

Rachel was even less understanding - she was ready to settle down, to start their lives together, and didn’t see why Patrick didn’t feel the same. Didn’t he love her?

He did. He loved her so much. But it wasn’t the all-consuming, desperate love that he had heard about in love songs his entire life. He couldn’t say that to her though; couldn’t tell her that the love he had for her was not the love he needed. She was still his best friend, and the last thing he wanted to do was to break her heart. But he knew in his soul that he would hurt her much worse if he kept on pretending. 

So he left. He left, and he ended up in a small town - much smaller than the one he had walked away from - and he found genuine, passionate love; the kind that the love songs had promised. 

He found everything he had been looking for in Schitt’s Creek, and it nearly destroyed him.

He stands now in the center of his small studio apartment, keys dangling from his fingers, eyes burning and jaw throbbing. The man he loves is gone, and there is nothing here in Schitt’s Creek for him anymore. It’s time to move on.

_Go on, go on, go on_   
_If you were thinking that the worst is yet to come_   
_Why am I the one always packing up my stuff?_


	2. Chapter One: Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick gets to know the locals, and Johnny Rose makes a desperate call.

_Six Months Earlier_

Patrick arrived in Schitt’s Creek for the very first time at six o’clock in the evening, on the last day of April.

He stood on the front steps of a small, grey house on the outskirts of town. Signs advertising various businesses littered the front of the house, but the same smiling face and phone number appeared on each one. Patrick checked the address he’d hastily written on a stained gas station napkin against the number posted on the house one more time before raising his hand to knock.  
  
The door swung open almost immediately, and a jubilant, mocha-skinned man - the same man who was pictured in all of the advertisements - stood in the doorway, a bright and wide grin on his friendly face.

“You must be Patrick!” the man proclaimed excitedly. “I’m Ray, we spoke briefly on the phone last night.”

“Yes, uh, Patrick Brewer, a pleasure to meet you,” Patrick held out his hand, and Ray took it in a firm but quick handshake, “I was so happy to hear that you have a room to rent!”

“I’m afraid I must confess something, Patrick,” Ray replied, his voice tinged with regret, “my cousin’s sister-in-law arrived this afternoon and has taken the room upstairs. But not to worry! I have an alternative solution!” Ray walked back into the house, but before Patrick could follow, he returned with a set of keys in his hands.

“This way!” Ray instructed, then led Patrick around the side of the house and toward a narrow set of concrete stairs that clearly led to the house’s basement level. Ray did not seem to notice Patrick’s hesitation as made his way down the stairs and turned the lock on a heavy brown door. He smiled up at Patrick with nervous anticipation, so Patrick reluctantly followed him down the steps.

“I’m afraid it’s not quite complete, and it is a bit cold down here, but you will have your own bathroom and kitchen!” Ray explained as he led Patrick into the space.

The room was very cool and damp, and the ceilings were quite low, with off white, unfinished walls and a cold concrete floor. Exposed beams offered a bit of a separation between the main room and a small nook, where a narrow, sagging bed sat. The “kitchen”, which sat directly across the room, consisted of a single-basin sink, a microwave, a hot plate, and a mini-fridge. There was a bathroom along the back wall, separated from the main room only by a curtain. 

“It’s great, Ray thank you," Patrick said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. The room was dark and drab, but it was his alone, and for that, he was grateful. He turned to look at Ray, who was smiling hopefully.

"I just...um, I can only really afford the room rate that was listed in the ad-”

“Of course, of course! This is the same rate if you are still willing to help out with my new tax business, that is!”

“Yes, of course,” Patrick replied. They shook hands, and Ray handed over the keys before making his way out of the small basement room.

“Patrick?”

“Yes, Ray?”

“Door open or closed?”

“Ah. Open - I just need to go back out to my car to get my bags.”

“Of course! Welcome to Schitt’s Creek.”

_you put your keys on the counter_  
_check your phone_  
_and you surround yourself with sounds_  
_just to be sure you’re not alone_  
_cuz when it’s quiet you’re reminded_  
_of all the things that you won’t do_  
_you just let em pass you by_  
_or you reach halfway and say_  
_fuck it man you tried_

+++++++

  
Patrick first met Twyla when he ventured into Café Tropical to pick up sandwiches for him and Ray. 

Twyla was beautiful, if flighty, and was deeply entrenched in the goings-on of Schitt’s Creek.   
It was Twyla who told Patrick about the local baseball league, the open mic nights at the only bar in town, and the latest production at the local playhouse.

“Anyway, Mrs. Rose keeps insisting we need to find a white horse for the final act, but Mr. Rose keeps reminding her that it’s not in the budget.”

“Sorry, who are-”

“Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Rose own the playhouse - Rose Performing Arts Center, it’s called now. Mr. Rose bought it so that Mrs. Rose would have a creative outlet for all of her ideas - mostly it gets used for Jazzagals rehearsals and the annual fundraiser for asbestos, but each December Mrs. Rose puts together an elaborate production and about half of the town ends up involved, including the Rose’s own children. I am pretty sure David and Alexis hate it, but I think it’s great fun!”

“Wow,” Patrick replied, wide-eyed, his tea all but forgotten. “Uh, I’m not sure I want to know about the asbestos, but-”

“Ding-a-ding!” Patrick turned to see an older woman in a garishly elaborate outfit wiggling a single gloved finger in the air in an effort to gain Twyla’s attention. Patrick took in the black leather corset laced over a crisp white shirt and overly-complicated necklace before he forced himself to look down at his tea to avoid openly staring.

“Twyla, dear, I'm afraid I have to shift you once again to Dancer Number 3,” the woman spoke with an unrecognizable accent, “Alexis hasn’t been able to absorb her choreography well, and I simply don’t have time to walk her through it again.”

“Happy to help, Mrs. Rose,” Twyla replied sunnily, as the woman - Mrs. Rose, began to dig around in her oversized handbag. She pulled out a stack of crinkled papers and placed them on the countertop.

“Here is a new book for you to work from,” Mrs. Rose continued, “Derek will be in touch regarding the choreography. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to head back to the playhouse. It appears as though David is unwilling to learn the sitar for this role, so I must re-imagine what our penniless sitar player might become in its stead.”

“Good luck, Mrs. Rose,” Twyla replied, amusement coloring her smile.

“What kind of play is this?” Patrick wondered aloud as Mrs. Rose left the cafe.

“It’s supposed to be based on some sort of Greek tragedy, except that Mrs. Rose has set in India for some reason,” Twyla explained as she refilled Patrick’s tea. She slid the script toward Patrick,”You can read it if you want to. Mrs. Rose keeps giving me revised copies every time she moves me to a different role. I have four other versions at home!”  
  
“Thanks,” Patrick picked up the book and thumbed through the pages. He had a lot of long gaps between appointments at Ray’s, so it would be nice to have something to pass the time. He picked up his tea, flipped to the first page, and started reading.

++++++

Johnny Rose closed his laptop with a sigh. This was the fifth straight month that the theater hadn’t returned a profit, and he needed to figure something out soon. He knew that this place was the only thing keeping Moira even mildly entertained in this small town, and losing it would be devastating for all of them. It had taken Johnny years to save up enough to purchase this run-down building, and he and Moira had invested all of their time and energy into transforming it into a community and performing arts center that they could be proud of.

Once again, Johnny cursed himself for not seeing Eli’s duplicity earlier. If he’d been paying closer attention, maybe they would have caught on before losing everything that they had.

Now here he was, on the verge of losing it all again. Out of desperation, he began reaching out to old friends and acquaintances from their past life, hoping against hope that someone might be willing to invest. He’d had no luck until an old golf buddy reached out with an offer to fund the center for the next five years. In return, he would send his only son down to Schitt’s Creek to oversee and sign off on the investment, and this year’s production. Johnny didn’t like the idea of an outside party having creative control over Moira’s work, but he didn’t have much of a choice; they needed the money. Reluctantly, he sent the playbook over to his friend, along with a signed agreement, and awaited the next steps.

_I've played all my cards_  
_And that's what you've done too_  
_Nothing more to say_  
_No more ace to play_  
_The winner takes it all_  
_The loser standing small_  
_Beside the victory_  
_That's her destiny_


	3. Chapter Two: Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick meets the Roses.

“No, David, I don’t think this is working!” Moira Rose was perplexed and exasperated. She had poured her heart and soul into this show, but the words and music just didn’t seem to be amalgamating this time around. To make matters worse, her husband was pacing along the back of the theater like a nervous chicken, and Moira knew that if even _John_ could see the flaws, the play was doomed.

“Maybe we should just do _The Sound of Music_ ,” David shouted from the stage, his hands raised in defeat. 

“Oh, David don’t be ridiculous,” Moira scoffed. Behind her, the theater door opened, and John rushed to greet the incoming stranger. 

“It’s not working because none of this makes any sense,” Alexis chimed in from downstage. 

“Don’t blame the script for your lackluster performances!” Moira replied defensively.

“Ugh!” Alexis flipped her hair over her shoulder and stormed off stage. David watched her go, and turned back to his mother, shrugging dramatically.

+++++++

Patrick stepped into the small, slightly musty theater, and was happy to see that Mrs. Rose was working. He was intensely curious about the play, especially after reading the melodramatic, slightly nonsensical script - and to be honest, he had been hoping Mrs. Rose might be willing to audition him for one of the roles. Twyla said that she thought there might be a few open spots left, so as long as he didn’t have to dance much, he could perhaps join his first theater production since high school.

Before he could make his way down the narrow aisle toward the front of the theater, he was intercepted by a sharp dressed man with a warm smile and abundant eyebrows. 

“Hi there, I’m Johnny Rose, you must be-”

“Oh! Mr. Rose, my name is Patrick. I’m fairly new in town, but I got a copy of the play, and I thought-”

“Of course, of course! Well, what did you think?” Mr. Rose looked at Patrick expectantly, as voices from the stage grew louder. Patrick glanced up to see Mrs. Rose engaged in an argument with two people standing on the stage. 

“It’s...it’s interesting?”

“Ah! Well, maybe you can sit in while Moira runs through some scenes. Her vision is sometimes tough to convey on paper,” Mr. Rose seemed anxious for Patrick to like the play, which made little sense...unless they were having a lot of trouble finding people to participate? He was pulled from his thoughts when Mr. Rose wrapped his hand around Patrick’s arm and began parading him down the theater’s center aisle.

“Moira! Kids! I want you to meet Patrick. He’s here to see what we have been working on,” Mr. Rose raised his eyebrows meaningfully at his family.

“I don’t need - I mean, I’ve read the script-” Patrick stuttered, but was interrupted by Mrs. Rose, who began clapping frantically at the stage.

“Places! Places! We should perhaps begin from the moment the sitar player meets the courtesan? Where’s Twyla?” 

+++++++++

“Mom, you moved her to a dancing role again. I thought you wanted _me_ to play the courtesan!” Alexis stomped her foot dramatically.

“You can’t be the courtesan if I’m the sitar player, that’s _disgusting_ ,” David hissed. Lowering his voice, he continued, “Who the fuck is Patrick?”

“Ugh, David, he’s that guy’s son, the one with the money,” Alexis rolled her eyes.

“Okay, keep your voice down! Mom still doesn’t know about that,” David whispered sharply. Alexis just growled in reply.

“We can get Stevie! She would make a phenomenal courtesan!” Moira was working her way through her list of players, and it was only when she mentioned Stevie that David tuned back in.

“She would actually _not_ make a ‘phenomenal courtesan’, and I seriously doubt she is going to want to come back after that _Phantom of the Opera_ debacle,” David made a sweeping gesture with his arm to indicate the enormity of said debacle.

“Well we need someone _tragic_ for the role, so perhaps you should take it on, David,” Moira replied blithely.

“Yessss, David!” Alexis seal clapped and smiled smugly. David shot her a death glare and walked downstage.

“That’s ridiculous, I can’t be the courtesan, I’m supposed to be the _penniless sitar player_.”

“Oh David, you can’t even play the sitar!” Moira scoffed, as though it wasn’t always her intention to cast David as the sitar player. She had that glint in her eye that David absolutely hated. It meant that she was determined to push forward with this ridiculous idea. David squared his shoulders and prepared to argue.

“Um, I can play the guitar?” Patrick interjected. David squinted to try and see the man who had been standing silently next to Johnny for the last several minutes. He couldn’t see his face due to the bright stage lights but could see Patrick’s silhouette move as he shoved his hands into his front pockets.

“Uh, I realize the sitar and guitar are not the same, but I could probably at least fake it pretty well,” Patrick continued.

“Oh. Well, thank you, Peter,” Moira replied sweetly, but David could hear the insincerity in her tone.

“It’s Patrick,” came a soft reply as Moira barreled on.

“I’m afraid we are looking for someone with a fair amount of stage experience.”

“Well, I think if Patrick wants to audition, we should see what he can do,” Johnny was shooting Moira a meaningful look again. David sighed heavily. They had to get their mother on board for the sake of the theater.

“It could be interesting,” David pretended to agree with his father, “and he said he can play guitar.”

“Fine,” Moira conceded. “Perhaps Pat can also grace us with a song? After all, the sitar player is known for his _angelic voice_.”

“Oh, um. I don’t have a guitar? With me, that is.”

“We have one in the music room. Alexis, go fetch young Pat a guitar, won’t you dear?”

++++++

Patrick made his way up onto the stage as Alexis returned with a beat-up old acoustic guitar that appeared to be missing a string. He took it from her with a smile, then looked up at David, who was watching him skeptically from stage left. Patrick tried his best to offer a confident smile to the man, but David seemed unimpressed, and he and his sister made their way off stage to join their parents in the seats.

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to speak up, but there was something about David that enchanted him. He was tall and strikingly handsome, and absolutely nothing like anyone Patrick had ever met. He suddenly wanted to do this play, not as a lark, but so that he could get to know David, which made absolutely no sense to his logical mind since they hadn’t even been formally introduced.

He spent the next few minutes tuning the broken guitar as much as he could while trying to calm his nerves. He took a moment to wipe his sweaty hands on the butt of his jeans, then walked slowly downstage. He began strumming out a few chords and tried to find his voice.

The Rose family was seated in the front row of the theater, looking up at him with varying levels of interest. Mr. Rose seemed even more anxious than he had before; Mrs. Rose already seemed unimpressed; Alexis was smiling gamely, and David was staring at his phone.

“Um, I don’t know the songs in the play, so I’ll just - this is an old favorite of mine. Hope you like it,” Patrick smiled nervously and tried to ignore the put-upon sigh that came from the seats below.

_“My gift is my song_   
_And this one’s for you_   
_And you can tell everybody that this is your song_   
_It may be quite simple but, now that it’s done_   
_I hope you don’t mind_   
_I hope you don’t mind_   
_That I put down in words_   
_How wonderful life is now you’re in the world_

_I sat on the roof and I kicked off the moss_   
_Well some of these verses, well they_   
_They've got me quite cross_   
_But the sun's been kind while I wrote this song_   
_It's for people like you that keep it turned on_   
_So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do_   
_You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue_   
_Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean_   
_Yours are the sweetest eyes, I've ever seen_   
_And you can tell everybody that this is your song_   
_It may be quite simple but now that it's done_   
_I hope you don't mind_   
_I hope you don't mind_   
_That I put down in words_   
_How wonderful life is now you're in the world_   
_I hope you don't mind_   
_I hope you don't mind_   
_That I put down in words_   
_How wonderful life is now you're in the world”_

+++++

David thought he’d have to pretend to be impressed with Patrick in order to help convince his mother that Patrick should be a part of the production, but from the opening bars of the song, he was completely and genuinely enchanted by this man.

_How wonderful life is now you're in the world_

It was hard to believe that this guy was the only son of Conrad and Susan Aston. He seemed so... _grounded_. 

When his dad first told him and Alexis about his plan to bring in funding to save the theater, David was livid. He and Alexis had been roped into nearly every production their mother had put on in the musty old playhouse, and frankly, David was hoping they could have an excuse to shut it down. (Johnny told him he had a “defeatist attitude”, but Johnny had also never been roped into performing in any of Moira’s overly-elaborate productions.) But then Johnny pointed out what losing the playhouse would do to Moira (and by extension all of them), and David and Alexis reluctantly agreed to help Johnny with his plan.

Later, Johnny told David that Conrad’s son was going to be coming into town to oversee Moira’s latest project, and David knew without even meeting this...person, that he would have to run interference to prevent his mother from saying something that would ruin their deal. 

David thought that “befriending” this person would take work, but that was before he heard Patrick sing. Now, he couldn’t wait to get to know Patrick better.

“Oh! That was absolutely perfect!” Moira cried as the song faded. Patrick flushed and ducked his head, bowing slightly when the entire Rose family broke out into applause.

“I just had a vision!” Moira exclaimed suddenly. “A conceptualization, if you will.” She extended her arms out in front of her to frame Patrick between her hands. “Patrick, with his guitar, a thin grey...no blue! Blue scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck! Enchanting people with his words.” She turned to face her family as she announced:

“Not India; Paris! At the turn of the last century! The bohemian revolution! And our young hero is a penniless...poet! Who sings. And plays guitar, naturally.” Moira applauded her own idea and turned again to gaze up at Patrick.

“A penniless poet who meets a courtesan at the famed Moulin Rouge! It’s perfect. I must go make these changes immediately!” Moira picked up her small handbag and began making her way up the aisle and toward the theater exit. “Patrick,” she continued as she made her way out, “Rehearsals every evening at 5:30. I’ll disseminate the revised books tomorrow!”

“Oh! Well, this is very exciting!” Johnny smiled awkwardly. “Patrick, let us know what you think of the changes, and welcome to the show!” At that, Johnny turned and hastily followed his wife out of the theater.

“Oh my god, _David_ ! I can’t wait to see you do the _can-can_!” Alexis cried as the theater doors closed behind their father.

“Fall of a bridge please,” David hissed. He looked up at Patrick, who it seemed had not moved since Moira’s sudden announcement. “Um, you okay up there?”

That seemed to rouse Patrick from his stupor. He blinked and looked down at David and Alexis, then pulled the guitar strap over his head.

“Oh, yeah, I um - I should get back to...where should I put this?” Patrick stuttered and held the guitar out in front of him.

“Alexis can take it,” David replied. Alexis huffed out an “ _Ugh, David_ ” in response, but moved toward the stage. Patrick hopped off the stage and handed her the guitar with a grateful smile.

As Alexis left to return the guitar, David found himself at a loss for words. When he had first met Patrick, he had seen only an obligation. But now, with the sweet memory of that song echoing in his mind, he noticed things he hadn’t before. Warm brown eyes, solid, gorgeous arms, and a disarming, impish smile.

David was completely charmed.

++++++

“So, it looks like we’ll be working together,” Patrick shoved his hands into his front pockets - a nervous habit - and gazed up at David.

It was hard not to stare. David was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen in real life. David held his gaze for several long seconds, his cheeks flushed. He looked up at the ceiling with a sideways smirk as he replied, “Looks like it. I um, I don’t sing as well as you do, but,” David was looking at him again. 

“Do you...I mean, are you going to be okay, um, kissing me? In the play, I mean,” David folded his arms close to his chest and the heated look he had been giving Patrick seemed to cool somewhat. Patrick took a small step toward David, surprised by his own boldness. He licked his lips, and David’s gaze fell to his mouth.

“I don’t have any problem kissing you, David,” Patrick replied softly, “but I do have to confess that I, um. I’ve never kissed a guy before.” This time it was Patrick who broke eye contact, as he ducked his head in an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks.

“We should, um. Maybe practice a bit,” David smiled softly, and Patrick held his breath, and butterflies filled his stomach. He realized with absolute certainty that he wanted nothing more in the world than for David to kiss him.

“Probably a good idea,” Patrick whispered. His breath hitched as David wrapped a warm hand around his hip, and pulled him closer.

“Are you sure?” David whispered, their faces mear centimeters apart. In response, Patrick closed the distance between them, and kissed him.

++++++

Fireworks. 

Actual fireworks were shooting off behind his eyes and in his chest. He’d never felt anything like this before. He was instantly addicted.

He gasped, and pulled Patrick closer, taking control of this kiss. Patrick smelled amazing. Tasted amazing. David wanted to consume him. He couldn’t believe his luck - that someone like Patrick might be interested in someone like him!

And he was rich - or rather, his dad was rich - so maybe that meant David could get out of this podunk town and go back to New York. With Patrick. Who he wanted to kiss forever.

The kiss deepened; he ran his tongue over Patrick lips, and they opened beautifully. He explored Patrick’s mouth, let Patrick into his. It was electric. He wanted to sink into it, and never leave.

Eventually, he had to pull back to catch his breath. He looked at Patrick and was pleased to see that he was just as dazed. 

“I...I can’t believe it. I can’t believe that I have already fallen for a handsome, charming, heir to a media empire,” David whispered as Patrick nuzzled into David’s neck.

“Sorry, um. Can we back up a bit?” Patrick pulled back suddenly, looking confused.

“I um - sorry, maybe ‘falling for’ is a little...too much? I get told that I can be too much a lot,” David rambled. His heart was racing - was he having another panic attack?

“No it’s not - David, I definitely feel the same about...I mean, you’re amazing, and not too much but you said...something about an heir?”

“Oh, I just...I mean I know your dad is Conrad Aston, so-”

“Um, my dad is Clint Brewer, and he’s a high school biology teacher.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, he, uh...who is Conrad Aston?”

“Oh my god, I’m going to kill my dad,” David was definitely having a panic attack.

“David!” Alexis crashed through the door of the theater, and it was only then that David realized that he had never actually seen her leave earlier after she took the guitar from-

“Wait, if you’re not Conrad’s son, then who are you?” David asked as Alexis came down the theater aisle.

“David, why aren’t you picking up your phone? Dad is looking for you! He said Conrad’s son is at the motel, and he wants to meet you. Apparently, you two have a lot of friends in common - you know, from New York.” Alexis looked anxious and frantic and began pulling on David’s arm.

“Okay, fine, I’m coming!” David followed Alexis back toward the exit with only an apologetic glance toward Patrick.

“So I guess I’ll see you at rehearsal?” Patrick called. David looked back at Patrick as they reached the door. All he wanted to do was march back across the room and keep kissing him. But he knew he couldn’t. Not right now. He’d promised his dad.

“Yeah, at rehearsal,” David whispered as Alexis pulled him out the door.


	4. Chapter 3 - Truth

“So you’re David Rose,” Sebastien Raine was tall, devastatingly handsome, and completely aware of it. He gave off an air of smugness that David would have mistaken for confidence back when he was attracted to people like Sebastien.

Before he’d met Patrick.

His mind drifted back to that kiss. It was like nothing he’d ever felt. He wondered what Patrick was doing right now? Was he upset that David left? Would he be willing to kiss David again?

“I’d like to take you to dinner,” Sebastien purred softly. He slinked toward David and took his hand.

“I um.” David wanted to walk away, wanted to track down Patrick and learn every single thing about him. He wanted nothing to do with Sebastien.

“But he recalled the way his dad had looked at him when he’d left David here with Sebastien - so they could ‘get to know one another’ - and he knew that his father expected him to keep his promise, and keep Sebastien distracted while his mother finished the revisions to her play.

“Sure. Yes, let’s go to dinner.”

+++++

Patrick stood near the small window in his basement flat - the only place in the room where the wifi worked properly - and Googled Conrad Aston. It turned out that Conrad was a billionaire media mogul, who owned several newspapers and dozens of cable television stations. His son Henry, who went by the moniker “Sebastien Raine” - ugh, pretentious - was a photographer, and was also very handsome.

He seemed more like the kind of person David would be attracted to.

And yet. David had kissed him. And he seemed to enjoy it almost as much as Patrick did. Maybe he was pretending? But Patrick didn’t think so. Patrick had never, ever felt like this about anyone. He wanted David, in a way he’d never wanted Rachel or the handful of other girls he’d slept with. It was a burning, passionate want, and Patrick felt almost panicked with how all-consuming his passion was.

Irritated by his loss of control, he tossed his phone on a small table and picked up his guitar. He’d had a melody in his head since he’d left the theater earlier, and he was itching to get it out.

_I don’t know how it happened but I'm all shook up_   
_cuz I can see you dance with another man_   
_and it isn’t in my hands_   
_you gotta know you can cut a rug_   
_and now I'm tryin to figure out where to stand_   
_do I want to fall in love with you_   
_do I want to fall in love with you_   
_yeah but I don’t want to fall in love with you_   
_if I’m gonna fall apart with you_

_well I don’t know a lot but I’ll tell you what_   
_I used to be immune to you but I’m not_   
_anymore boy you’re in my head_   
_and I could try to lie I could try to bluff_   
_or I could try to dance with you instead_   
_oh but I want to fall in love with you_   
_I want to fall in love with you_   
_yeah but I don’t want to fall in love with you_   
_if I’m gonna fall apart with you with you with_   
_you_

_so what would you pick if you had to choose_   
_between taking a risk or playin safe_   
_cuz I would say_   
_that I don’t want to play if I’m gonna lose_   
_but I don’t want to lose cuz I didn’t play_   
_yeah yeah yeah_

_and I’ll tell you somethin that you didn’t know_   
_I could get used to havin you around_   
_yeah baby in my arms_   
_but how does the old expression go_   
_somethin bout settin off false alarms_

_oh but I want to fall in love with you_   
_I want to fall in love with you with you_   
_but I don’t want to fall in love with you_   
_if I’m gonna fall apart with you with you with_   
_You_

++++++

Rehearsals began the following week, and David did all that he could to keep Sebastien at arm's length while still keeping him interested in Moira’s project. David agreed to daily lunches with Sebastien, but at night, David would feign fatigue after a lengthy rehearsal to avoid having to see him again. 

It was quite obvious what Sebastien wanted from David. No doubt the shared “friends” he and Sebastian had were former lovers of David’s. Sebastien had probably heard about how easy it was to bed David Rose, and that was why he’d agreed to do Conrad this favor.

Instead of spending his evening’s with Sebastien, David would sneak away to Patrick’s cold, drab little flat that was underneath Ray Butani’s place. They would spend hours “rehearsing” their kiss, reading lines for one another, and eventually, inevitably, they ended up in Patrick’s bed.

Patrick was warm, enthusiastic, and unbelievably responsive. Sex did nothing to curb David’s addiction to the man; if anything, it only fanned the flames. 

By necessity, they kept their trysts a secret from everyone. At rehearsals, they were nothing but professional, allowing their passion to build toward the evening when they could be together.

“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” Patrick whispered one night under cover of darkness. They were in bed, naked, sticky, and sweaty. Patrick was drawing abstract lines along David’s back with his finger. “I didn’t even know it was possible to feel so much. Sometimes, at rehearsals, I feel like I’m going to burst because I’m not touching you.”

“We have to be careful,” David replied softly. He turned to his side so that he could look at Patrick. “Just until opening night. Sebastien won’t want to stay here after we open, I think.”

“What if he does?” Patrick wondered.

“He won’t.

++++++

Six weeks into rehearsals and Patrick felt like he was going out of his mind.

He was in love with David Rose. He was in love, and he wanted to shout it to the rooftops. But David had told him about Sebastien, and about their bid to save Mrs. Rose’s theater, and Patrick knew that he took his duty to his family very seriously.

He knew that Sebastien wanted David. Patrick saw red anytime he thought about him touching David. He knew that they spent the daylight hours together, and there was a part of Patrick that wondered if, eventually, David would fall for Sebastien’s charms.

But then Patrick remembered their nights together, and how tender David was - how patient. He never made Patrick feel bad for being new to sex with a man; on the contrary, he made Patrick feel sexy and confident, and beautiful. Patrick couldn’t believe that he had spent years convinced that this kind of passion was unattainable.

There were days, like today, where it took all of Patrick’s willpower to keep his hands to himself - to school his gaze so that it wasn’t obvious to everyone how Patrick felt. 

David was stood on stage, his costume - a pair of tight trousers and a loose-fitting, thin red shirt - highlighting his body in just the right ways. He was singing, while around him stagehands re-adjusted the set.

_“I need a lover to give me_   
_The kind of love that would last always_   
_I need somebody uplifting_   
_To take me away_   
_I want a lover who knows me_   
_Who understands how I feel inside_   
_Someone to comfort and hold me_   
_Through the long lonely nights_   
_Till the dawn_   
_Why don't you take me away_   
_Dream lover come rescue me_   
_Take me up take me down_   
_Take me anywhere you want to baby now_   
_I need you so desperately_   
_Won't you please come around_   
_'Cause I wanna share forever with you baby_   
_I don't want another pretender_   
_To disillusion me one more time_   
_Whispering words of forever_   
_Playing with my mind_   
_I need someone to hold on to_   
_The kind of love that won't fly away_   
_I just want someone to belong to every day of my life_   
_Always_   
_So come and take me away-”_

++++++

“Good, good!” Mrs. Rose interrupted. “David, you’re a little off-key on the higher notes, dear.”

“That’s because they are out of my range,” David replied acidly. He hopped off the stage, and began making his way toward Patrick, but was intercepted by Sebastien.

“David, that was...something,” Sebastien smirked. “How about dinner tonight?”

“Oh, I can’t, I’ve got rehearsal, and-”

“I talked to your mother. She agreed to cut rehearsal short so that we could have dinner.”

“Oh! Right. Well, I just need to run something by Patrick - uh, one of our scenes isn’t quite working and I have notes. How about I meet you at the cafe at 7:30?”

“Sure. 7:30. In my room at the motel. I’ll order in,” Sebastien left little room to argue. He ran his hand down David’s arm and then slowly let him pass. David continued up the aisle toward Patrick, his heart in his throat.

“What was that about?” Patrick asked as David approached.

“I have to have dinner with him tonight,” David replied flatly. He couldn’t look Patrick in the eye.

“What? No, I thought-”

“Well, there’s nothing I can do! The theater-”

“I don’t care about the theater or the play. David-”

“Well, I do. I have to. I promised my dad.”

“You promised your dad you would prostitute yourself?” Patrick hissed, then almost immediately looked contrite. “David, I’m sorry, I just-”

“I have to go,” David whispered. He had never felt so dirty, so ashamed as he did at this moment.

“David-”

“I’m sorry,” David made his way back to the stage to finish the rehearsal.

  
+++++++

Patrick stood on stage, sick to his stomach with worry and regret. He knows that what he said hurt David and that what he said was completely unfair - David was in an impossible situation, and besides - they’d never actually talked about being exclusive.

He thought about the song that he was supposed to sing here - it was something that neither he nor David thought worked in the moment - but they hadn’t had an opportunity to discuss a suitable replacement with Mrs. Rose. Patrick had some ideas, which he was planning to talk to David about tonight, but he realized that now was the perfect time to try it.

It was a moment in the play when the poet is trying to convince his love that he is the poet’s entire world - and that is what Patrick needs to convey to David right now.

“I um, I want to try something a little different here, if that’s alright with everyone,” Patrick announced to the few cast and crew who were milling about. He turned to look at David, who was standing in the wings, watching with trepidation. Patrick shot him a small smile and positioned himself so that he could subtly look at David while performing.

_"I call you when I need you, and my heart's on fire_   
_You come to me, wild and wired_   
_Oh, you come to me, give me everything I need_

_Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams_   
_Speak the language of love like you know what it means_   
_Mm, and it can't be wrong, take my heart and make it strong, babe_

_You're simply the best, better than all the rest_   
_Better than anyone, anyone I ever met_   
_And I'm stuck on your heart, I hang on every word you say_   
_Tear us apart, baby, I would rather be dead_

_In your heart I see the start of every night and every day_   
_In your eyes I get lost, I get washed away_   
_Just as long here in your arms I could be in no better place_   
_You're simply the best, better than all the rest_   
_Better than anyone, anyone I ever met_   
_And I'm stuck on your heart, I hang on every word you say_   
_Tear us apart, baby, I would rather be dead”_

He realized with a start that he had fully turned his body toward David, serenading him, and him alone. He was afraid to scan the room, for fear that everyone was able to see how he felt about David. When he turned to look at Mrs. Rose, he could see a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“That was lovely, Patrick,” Mrs. Rose exclaimed, “I think it’s a wonderful addition.”

“Thank you,” Patrick replied, then turned to David, who was watching him with a soft, tearful expression.

“Thank you,” David mouthed quietly, then backed into the shadows of the wings. Patrick thanked Mrs. Rose again, then followed David backstage.

“David, I’m so sorry-”

“No, Patrick, you’re right, I can’t do this! I can’t do this to us. I only want you. I...I have to see Sebastien tonight, but I’m going to tell him that I’m not interested. You’re all I want.”

“But what about the theater?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Will you come to see me tonight, after you’re done?”

“Yes. I promise.”

++++++

David took a deep breath, building up the courage to knock on Sebastien’s door. His plan was to tell Sebastien that he couldn’t do this, couldn’t pretend to be interested in him anymore. He and his family would have to figure out what to do if the Astons pulled out on their deal, but David couldn’t lie anymore.

Before he could knock, the door swung open, and Sebastien stood on the other side, looking even more smug than usual.

“David, please come in.”

David sighed and walked into the room. It looked just like all of the other rooms, but for some reason, it seemed darker in here. David felt cold, and nervous as he turned to look at Sebastien.

“Would you like to take off your jacket?” Sebastien was leaning against the door to the room, smirking knowingly. David fought his instinct to fold his arms over his chest - this leather jacket wouldn’t allow for it anyway.

“I’m fine, I’m not staying.”

“Is it because of Patrick?” Sebastien asked. “Oh yes, I know all about your secret little affair. The two of you are completely obvious.”

“So you know why I can’t stay,” David replied.

“Oh, I think you’ll stay. Did you know, David, that your mother and I worked together, years ago? She probably doesn’t recognize me, since I had blonde hair at the time, but I managed to get some very...interesting shots.” Sebastien crossed to the small table in the center of the room, and tossed a large manila envelope on the bed. David picked up the envelope and opened the flap. Inside were some of the most unflattering photos of his mother he had ever seen. She would be devastated if these photos were to get out. David dropped the envelope on the bed and turned to Sebastien.

“What do you want from me?”

Sebastien smiled.

++++++

  
“You’re simply the best,” Patrick muttered to himself as he finished making his tea. He wanted so badly to talk to David, to hold him in his arms and never let go. A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He rushed to open it, and there was David on the other side, wearing a leather jacket that Patrick had never seen before, and a strangely closed-off expression on his face.

“David, come in! I was just making tea.”

“I can’t stay, Patrick,” David replied flatly. 

“What do you mean?”

“Sebastien is waiting for me.”

“What?” Patrick took a step toward David, his heart breaking when David took a step back, “David, what’s going on?”

“Sebastien promised to take me back to New York with him. He promised to take care of everything.”

“But-”

“You know I’m suffocating here, Patrick. This town is awful! I’m living in a motel! I belong in New York. We’re leaving in the morning. I’m sorry.”

“What about your family? And the play?”

“I don’t need any of that anymore. And I don’t need you. I’m sorry.”

“David!” Patrick tried to step in front of David, but to no avail. David pushed around him and opened the door to the flat. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his back to Patrick. 

“Please, don’t go.”

“Goodbye, Patrick.”


	5. Chapter 4 - Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My apologies to the prompter - I lost the last part of my edited draft, and so this chapter will have some edits and updates in the coming days. The skeleton is here, but the details were lost.

_Say I wouldn't care if you walked away_  
_But every time you're there I'm begging you to stay_  
_When you come close I just tremble_  
_And every time, every time you go_  
_It's like a knife that cuts right to my soul_

_Only love, only love can hurt like this_  
_Only love can hurt like this_  
_Must've been a deadly kiss_  
_Only love can hurt like this_

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. David was lying. He had to be! Patrick fell to his knees, devastated. David’s eyes looked so flat - Patrick knew he must be lying about something.

Determined to find the truth, Patrick stood and grabbed his keys. He would go to the hotel, and demand answers. The person who was just here wasn’t the David he knew.

The drive to the hotel seemed to take hours. Patrick was shaking with nerves. How can he convince David to stay if leaving is what he really wants? Maybe he can promise to take him? 

But Patrick has no desire to go to New York. He grew up in small towns, and that’s where he feels most comfortable. Would he be willing to make that sacrifice for David? 

He would, he realized. He would give David everything if he could. He was in love with David Rose, and he would do whatever he had to do to win him back.

Patrick pulled into the motel parking lot just as David was walking up. Patrick realized that David must have walked to the motel from his flat. He stopped the car in the middle of the lot and jumped out.

“David,” he called out desperately. David stopped but doesn’t turn to look at Patrick. At that moment, Sebastien opened the door to his room, and stepped toward David. Patrick saw red - he marched toward the motel, his hands fisted.

“What did you say to him?” Patrick demanded angrily.

“I just gave him everything you can’t” Sebastien replied calmly. He wrapped his arm around David’s shoulder, “Come on.”

“No! David, please, I love you! Don’t do this.”

“Back off, man,” Sebastien stepped between Patrick and David. Patrick moved to swing at Sebastien, but the taller man was too quick and was able to dodge the swing. When Sebastien swings back, he connects. Patrick stumbled back, but by the time he rights himself, Sebastien has pulled David into his room.

“David!”

++++++

David stood in Sebastien’s room, tears running down his face. He wanted nothing more than to go back out there and tell Patrick that he loved him too, but he couldn’t do that until he found the negatives from those photos. He just hoped that he could find them soon so that he could come back to Patrick.

Patrick. Sebastien had hit him, and David let him. Why would Patrick ever forgive him for this? 

“You should finish packing your bags, David. We have an early flight.”

++++++

Present Day

With his bags packed, and his security deposit back from Ray, Patrick got into his car and drove toward the motel. He knew that it was futile, knew that David was already in New York, but he had to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Rose before he left. He owed them that much.

The motel was quiet when he pulled up. He took a deep breath and got out of the car. He'd only been here a few times over the past several months, and his last memory of this place was of Alexis Rose and a hotel employee named Stevie finding him weeping next to his car in the lot. They were kind but confused, as Patrick was unable to pull it together enough to explain what had happened.

Mr. Rose answered his knock and explained that Mrs. Rose, still devastated by the ruination of her play and also the news that the playhouse would likely go under, was locked in the closet. He led Patrick to a set of picnic tables around the side of the building.

"Have you heard from David at all?" Patrick asked once they were seated.

"He called once to say that they landed. He hasn't been in touch since."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could have done something-"

"You love him. Don't you?" Mr. Rose looked at Patrick, who nodded shortly.

"With all my heart."

"Maybe you should go to New York and bring him back," Mr. Rose suggested.

"I think...I think I just need to go. Everything about this place reminds me of David, and without him. Well."

"I understand. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." Patrick stands, and Mr. Rose stands as well. They make their way toward Patrick's car.

"Good luck, son," Mr. Rose said sincerely. Patrick, a lump in his throat, can only nod. He opened his car door just as Alexis exits her room.

"Patrick! Are you leaving without saying goodbye?"

"Sorry Alexis, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay, button. You can make it up to me by giving me a ride to the theater. There is something there I wanted to show you."

"I don't think-"

"Please, Patrick! I promise, it won't take long."

"Okay," Patrick sighed and got into his car. He can do this for her, even if going into that theater was the last thing he wanted to do.

The theater was not far from the motel, so they arrived much sooner than Patrick would have liked. He got out of the car, and squared his shoulders as Alexis led him inside.

The lights were out, which was to be expected - once David left, they no longer had a lead, so the play shuttered. Once the door closed behind them, the darkness consumed them. 

"What did you want to show me?" Patrick asked. Alexis didn't reply, just squeezed his arm.

The sound of a switch being thrown was loud in the silent room. All at once, the stage was illuminated, and standing in the center, was David.

++++++

The lights shining on him obscured his vision, so David could only hope that Patrick was still standing there. He needed Patrick to know that he loved him. He took a deep breath and belted out the song that was meant to be their duet in the play.

_"Never knew I could feel like this_

_Like I've never seen the sky before_

_I want to vanish inside your kiss_

_Seasons may change, winter to spring_

_But I Love You, until the end of time_

_Come what may_

_Come what may_

_I will Love You_

_Until my dying day"_

Pausing, David looked out across the theater. He just needed Patrick to say something. To yell at him for leaving, perhaps. But instead, what he heard was an answer to his call.

_"Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place_

_Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace_

_Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste_

_It all revolves around you"_

And Patrick was there, walking down toward the stage, tears in his eyes.

_"And there's no mountain too high_

_No river too wide_

_Sing out this song,_

_I'll be there by your side_

_Storm clouds may gather_

_And stars may collide_

_But I Love You, I Love You,_

_Until the end of time_

_Come what may, come what may, I will Love You_

_The greastest thing you'll ever learn..._

_Come what may, I will Love You, Come what may, Yes, I will Love You_

_Come what may, I will Love You, Til my dying day"_

Patrick made his way up to the stage. He didn't look angry, he looked relieved. He pulled David into his arms and held him tightly.

"You came back," Patrick whispered.

"I found the negatives, so-"

"The...what negatives?" Patrick asked.

"I'll explain later. Patrick...I love you."

"What about this podunk town?" Patrick smiled.

"As long as you're here, I'm here. Come what may."


End file.
